


They Honor Him With Ugly Sweaters

by kelmeister



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Gen, Lucifer's a little jealous, Season 2 or 3, TW: dead body, christmas crime scene, so that's The True Meaning of Christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:14:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22023922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelmeister/pseuds/kelmeister
Summary: It's close to Christmas, and Lucifer is a little "bah, humbug." Actually, a lot "bah, humbug." With a lot of bahhing. And a whole lot of humbug. So, of course he takes it out on a crime scene.
Relationships: Chloe Decker & Lucifer Morningstar, Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Kudos: 85





	They Honor Him With Ugly Sweaters

The body hangs, by its neck, from a strand of colorful twinkling lights tied to an exposed rafter.

“Well, that’s bloody _cheery_ ,” Lucifer mocks.

Ella pauses photographing the scene long enough to give Lucifer a friendly punch in the arm, to which he responds with an exaggerated, “ _Ouch_!” Chloe no longer finds this behavior annoying or inappropriate, but for appearances she frowns grimly and waves a finger between the two of them. Lucifer at least pretends to look chastised. She pulls out her notebook.

“Thirty-four year old male, ID gives his name as Jacob Marley–”

“ _Seriously_?” Lucifer and Ella exclaim together, eyeballing each other suspiciously. Ella is a split second faster with her cry of, “Jinx!”

Lucifer waves her off. “Whatever.”

“Sore loser.”

He sticks out his tongue.

Okay, _this_ behavior is annoying and inappropriate.

“Guys!” Chloe barks, “Focus! Crime scene!”

Lucifer at least has the decency to look legitimately contrite.

Chloe points to the body. “First on scene found a note. So why were we called in for a suicide?”

A wide grin erupts on Ella’s face. “Ah, it certainly _looks_ like a suicide, but if you look closely at the markings on the neck…” she drops her camera around her neck and indicates with a gloved finger.

Chloe and Lucifer squeeze closer. Lucifer’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “What am I lo–”

“Bruising around the ligature marks that look like fingers.” Chloe frowns.

“Exactly,” Ella exclaims.

“So our victim was manually strangled and then strung up to look like a suicide,” Chloe wanders away, mumbling theories to herself.

Lucifer stabs his hands into his trouser pockets and rocks back on his heels. “So that ruins that,” he mumbles.

“Ruins what?” Ella’s signaling for help to move the body.

“Well, whatever all _this_ means, of course!” He gestures grandly at the scene around them: the opulently decorated nine foot Douglas fir, the garland hung around every window, the row of sequin and velvet stockings trimmed in real fur dangling from the fireplace mantle. “Why someone would choose to _kill themselves_ in such a _spectacular_ fashion, surrounded by festive _tchotchkes_ and _bric-a-brac._ What kind of ‘bugger off’ is being sent to the Heavens?” Lucifer nods. “This would have been an impressive ‘ _eff you_ ’ to the Cosmos, but now come to find out it’s just your typical run-of-the-mill _murder_.”

“Huh.” Ella frowns as she absorbs this.

“So, I take it you hate Christmas,” Chloe says, wandering into the conversation.

“Quite.” Lucifer bows before her gracefully. " _Bah, humbug_.”

“Do I want to know?”

“Well, _think_ about it, Detective!” Lucifer pulls himself up to full height, back ramrod straight. He’s got an audience. He’s about to earn their price of admission. " _Every_ year, for what is _supposed_ to be a _single day_ that is instead stretched out over _months_ , I am _continuously_ reminded through _saccharine sweet songs_ and _cheery dispositions_ that _I_ , who was once the most glorious _First_ and _Favorite_ Son, have been cast aside for…for, _what_? His _Chosen_ Son! Whom everybody _loves_! They love Him _so much_ , they honor Him with _ugly sweaters_ and _fist fights_ over cheap appliances no one actually _wants_!” Lucifer huffs out a sigh, exhausted and deflated. “It’s distasteful.”

Chloe’s eyes are wide. She’s been subjected to similar tirades from him before, but this...this seems different. The fire and light in him are gone. He’s sad, trying valiantly to hide it, and failing miserably. She makes a decision, steps in closer.

“Come have Christmas with us, Lucifer,” she whispers. “We don’t–Trixie and me, on Christmas we worship only chocolate cake and All-American dolls.” She gives him gentle smile. “Maybe a couple hallelujahs are given for egg sandwiches.”

“Really, Detective?” He looks at her in disbelief. “You want to invite _me_ to your family gathering?”

“Yes, against my better judgment,” she laughs, “I am inviting you to our house to spend Christmas with us.”

At that, all traces of sadness leave Lucifer’s face. He giddily claps his hands. “Well then, I’d better start making a list of who’s _naughty_ and who’s _nice_! Prepare yourself and your spawn for _gifts_ , Detective!”

Chloe shakes her head and tries to wave him off. “No, Lucifer, really, you don’t–”

“Of course I do!” He leans in conspiratorially. “Unless you are insinuating, Detective, that this,” he sweeps his hands over his body, gesturing to it like a game show vixen showing off a new car, “would be present _enough_.”

Chloe huffs a laugh, but glares and hands him a piece of paper. “Here’s your early gift, Lucifer: suspects to interview. Get in the car.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This was posted long ago on the Tumblr that I deleted in a fit of pique. I may have told a friend about it. So here it is.


End file.
